Lips... tired, sore and red
She tried to rub her worries away
But they only became further ingrained
With pain and sparkles of what was to come
She roamed the streets
Looking and searching for that outlook
But, did it ever really exist?
Was she ever to reach that peak?
Lip...tired, sore and bruised
She stumbled through the dark mist, ruffling and sighing
As though there was something at the end
But, was she now supposed to shine and show the world that it was all worth it...in the end?
Like every swear and tear added up to something
So much bigger than herself
But yet something that paper seemed to contain and spill out so effortlessly...
She, herself, struggled to contain
And why was that so?
"Little red rose",
She said to herself
Over and over again
"I’ll open
I’ll splatter
Those sparkles will gleam within me
They’ll direct my path"
I and she just have a long way to go...